


Omitting is the Most Fun a Boy Can Have Without Taking His Dress Off

by crossroadswrite



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, Future Fic, M/M, Oblivious Derek Hale, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Pining Derek Hale, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Singer Stiles Stilinski, Stiles in pretty dresses because of reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which Stiles sings while wearing pretty dresses and Derek pines a great deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omitting is the Most Fun a Boy Can Have Without Taking His Dress Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ang3lba3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/gifts).



> For my boyfriend, Cannibals_Welcome, because we've been together for exactly a month and turns out I'm the kind of girl that I usually roll my eyes at. So here have some pretty dresses and scenting and other fun stuff I know you like because you deserve all the nice things and if I can give you some nice things I'll count myself lucky.
> 
>  
> 
> [Here is the song that inspired the title and that Stiles sings.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AZxUtZ2ZgI)

It’s the middle of the afternoon and Stiles is still sacked out on Derek’s couch somewhere between napping and going on a lecture about why more sexual diversity is needed in TV shows.

“You’ve been here since ten a.m.” Derek points out. It’s not like he minds, _not really_ , but still Stiles is making his scent sink into the couch and  if he lets it go on for much longer that means that Derek would invariably wake up with a boner every time he took a nap on the couch.

“Shut up, I cooked you lunch, remember.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “I remember you coming in, looking at what I was cooking and then lecturing me for thirty minutes about high cholesterol before announcing you’re taking over the bridge and stealing my food.”

“High cholesterol is a serious matter that affects-“

“I’m a werewolf, dumbass. And if you call me old I’ll-“

“Rip my throat out? With your teeth?” Stiles smirks, not even bothering to look at Derek.

“I was going to say force-feed an entire pineapple down your throat, but that works too.”

Stiles snorts and rubs his cheek on the couch, “Kinky.”

“I don’t even want to know how that’s kinky.”

Stiles opens his mouth.

“I said I didn’t want to know. Don’t make me smother you with a pillow.”

“You like me too much to do that.”

Derek squints, lets himself growl a little to try to discourage him even if just a little bit.

Stiles just snuffles into the couch and throws a leg over the back of it, contorting into a position that doesn’t seem in the slightest comfortable.

Derek misses the time when growling would make him flail into maiming himself. Well he doesn’t really miss the maiming, his wolf is certainly happier letting Stiles stay close where Derek can keep an attentive eye and save him from any self-maiming.

But still, it’s the _principle_ of it.

“Didn’t you want to get a job?” he tries.

Seriously, Derek treasures his napping time when he can wake up a little confused and sans boner.

“Everyone got a job this year and you’re lazing around in my couch. Eating my food, like a slob.”

And then Stiles does the strangest thing. He flips so he’s stomach down and gives Derek this slow smile, blinking slowly and looking at him through his eyelashes.

“Oh, I have a job, _Big Guy_.”

If Derek had been a teenager he would probably be popping his fangs at the slow assured way in which Stiles says it. His voice is like _sex_ right now and Derek is honestly confused.

It’s not the first time that Stiles calls him that, not by far, but when previously it had been pigtail pulling at the playground now it’s a teasing challenge, the same kind of tone someone would use when saying _“Make me.”_

He realizes he must look like an idiot, sitting in his armchair and staring at Stiles with his mouth a little agape.

Derek should say something, should probably comment on what kind of job Stiles has that it makes his voice go like _that_.

But then the moment is lost and Stiles is sprawling back on the couch and irritably zapping through channels.

“Anyway, you’re rich ass can support my lazy slob ass, so stop complaining and get me pop.”

“I’m not your goddamned housewife,” Derek growls, even as he gets up and gets him some Stiles the stupid pop he buys especially for him. He makes sure to throw it at his stomach mostly because Derek Hale is a mature adult who expresses his emotions in an eloquent way.

 Stiles huffs and grins placidly and happily up at him.

“Thanks, Big Guy.”

Derek resolutely ignores how his wolf purrs at providing for Stiles and steals the remote, changing to the History Channel.

Stiles doesn’t even complain, just says keeps whispering “Cool.” or making stupid little commentaries throughout.

Derek’s crush – and yes he absolutely thinks that he’s too old to have crushes – may be getting a little out of control.

Stiles chases a drop of pop that is slowly making its way down his wrist with his tongues and Derek accidentally claws his favorite armchair.

Yeah, definitely out of control.

«»

In hindsight maybe Derek should’ve asked Stiles exactly what kind of job he’s doing because next come the nicknames.

“Thanks, Doll,” Stiles grins at Isaac, taking the chopsticks he was being offered and starting to shovel food in his mouth.

“What?” Isaac startles, cheeks going slightly red.

“What what?” Stiles asks confused, through a mouthful of disgusting food.

“Uh, nervermind.”

«»

“Great work there, Handsome.”

Jackson falls off the roof where he had been trying to fix the a hole in the new and less traumatic Hale house – Stiles’ name for it, not his.

“What the fuck!”

Stiles chews on his apple, “What’s his problem now?”

Derek blinks at him, still confused before slowly and carefully shrugging.

«»

“If that’s what you want, Darling,” Stiles shrugs, carefully switching nail polishes and starting on Erica’s nails.

Erica freezes for a moment before melting a little more into Stiles’ side and starting to grin smugly.

«»

“Careful there, Big Guy,” Stiles laughs, patting Boyd’s chest. Bod frowns down at him and then looks up at Derek warily.

Derek looks down to realize he just broke the spoon he was using. He quickly throws it into the trashcan and pretends nothing happened.

«»

The nicknames aren’t even the worst. The worst is Stiles skipping pack meetings to go do his _job_.

Derek aggressively munches on candy from Isaac’s secret stash as the pack pretends they’re watching The Notebook and not burning with curiosity as to where Stiles _is_ exactly.

“Scott must know,” Jackson glares, “Tell us, McCall.”

Scott squirms guiltily and Derek’s eyes immediately hone in on him, locking and engaging in the best murder glare he can manage.

“I can’t! Stiles made me promise under the brocode.”

Derek is about to get up and channel some of the animosity he and Scott had in the early days, but then he sees Lydia and Erica trading _the glance_ and he just lets himself relax back into his hole filed armchair and enjoy the show.

Scott gives up in three minutes flat. It’s kind of beautiful to watch those two working towards the same evil goal.

Derek makes sure to nuzzle into Erica’s cheek and carefully pat Lydia on the shoulder as a sign of thanks.

“But that’s a gay club,” Jackson says confusedly, “an _expensive_ one.”

“Sounds hot, I’m in!” Erica says excitedly, already jumping up from where she had been tormenting Scott and heading for the door.

Scott looks incredibly panicked, “Aren’t you going to stop them!”

Derek calmly puts on his jacket, “Nope.”

«»

The gay club isn’t something luxurious. It’s certainly nicer than the Jungle, more organized than a bunch of barely out of their teens horny boys grinding on each other. It’s more grown up, Derek would say.

People here have shirts on at least, and there’s live music and everything, it’s actually pretty nice. Derek could see himself frequenting a place like this.

Erica looks like a kid in a candy store, running her eyes through the men at the club and then eagerly at Derek, not too far from a child checking with their Dad if they can pick some candy from the display.

“Knock yourself out, this isn’t a real mission,” Derek shrugs.

The pack starts almost immediately dispersing, each one of them going to explore what interests them most.

“Remember to keep an eye open for Stiles,” he says just loud enough to make the other wolves hear him.

He knows Stiles is here, he can hear his heartbeat coming from somewhere to his right, a little too fast but then again Stiles’ heart is always a little too fast.

 “Found him!” Erica squeals from her spot, leaning against a wall with the best view of the club. She juts her chin out to where Stiles is leaning over – _bending_ really – over a table and talking lowly to a patron.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want a bottle, Darling? You know, they say red wine is an aphrodisiac.”

“Yeah,” the man coughs, voice rough and sounding a little dazed, “yeah sure. Bring the bottle.”

Stiles straightens with a wink and a little sway of his hips which he probably learned from Erica going by how illegal it looks.

“Look at my boy go,” Erica says proudly.

Derek resists the urge to growl.

Stiles turns away from the client whispering “Sucker,” under his breath with a little disbelieving laugh, the same he gets when he manages to get a particularly tricky rune to work.

“Stiles, sweetie, you’re up in thirty, you should go get ready,” the bartender calls out.

“Oh, shit. Yeah okay. Sorry, Marcus. Just get a bottle of the expensive shit for the dude in table four.”

Marcus laughs, “Hon, you’re the best thing we’ve had since the shirts are not mandatory on stage rule.”

“Aww, you’re too sweet.”

“I am, now move your pert little ass and go get ready.”

Stiles does a little salute and twirls around, somehow being able to miss Derek and every single member of the pack while heading for a little door besides the stage.

Derek decides to sit down to see whatever the fuck is about to come out of this, doing a quick search around to make sure his pack isn’t getting into trouble.

“Hey, Handsome,” a guy with a lip ring and a lewd smile smoothly approaches Derek , “how can I _help you_ tonight.”

“You can’t,” Derek says curtly, glaring at the door where Stiles disappeared into.

The guy looks towards the door too and sighs a little dreamily, “Already hung up on Jailbait?  We all are buddy. Don’t bother, you’ll either end up arrested or eating dirt. Boy’s spoken for.”

Derek transfers his glare to the guy with a neat tag saying Jason and too pale skin. He could really use some sun.

“He is?”

Jason sighs again, “All the good ones are gay and taken,” he pouts a little, “I can’t even be upset because his boyfriend sounds so _dreamy_.”

“Dreamy.”

Derek is not impressed with this conversation. Which is, of course, when almost everyone converges on the table and decides to settle in to witness his pain.

“I heard Stilinski was riding someone’s dick,” Jackson starts. Derek kicks him in the leg because he’s the Alpha and a mature adult.

“I call bullshit,” Isaac sniffs, eyes catching on Jason and doing the once over.

Jason raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed he’s being questioned.

“Believe it twink, he goes on and on about his biceps and how nice he is and his beard and his truly ridiculous eyes. Why you know my boy Stiles?”

“We’re his friends,” Erica states, leaning forwards, “we can be your friends too.”

“No we can’t,” Derek says.

“Well, _I_ can. I bet Isaac wouldn’t mind another friend,” she winks.

Jason winks right back, just as ridiculously.

Derek wonders why this is his life.

“Anyways, you might know who Stilesy is talking about and if you do please show me pictures because that boy went on a rant about beardburn and I just wanna see what that action is all about,” Jason looks at them pointedly, before leaning in like it’s a secret, “He calls him DD.”

Derek feels the bottom of his stomach drop. He clenches his jaw tightly and tries to ignore the whining his wolf is doing.

The entire table is silent for about three seconds before all the girls burst into laughter.

 “Oh, this is _perfect_ ,” Erica cackles.

Jason gets a little confused, wary look, but decides on rolling his eyes and ignoring them.

“Anyway, you Hon,” he points at Derek, “what can I bring you?”

“ _Derek_. Not Hon.”

Jason stops, blinks, “Your name is Derek?”

Derek nods slowly, warily.

“Damn, Jailbait got game,” he says appreciatively.

“What?” Derek is confused. Again. It seems like his default state as of late. He really doesn’t like it.

The background music stops and Jason’s entire face lights up, “Oh, you’re gonna _love_ this.”

As if on cue, the lights of the club deem a little and a spotlight focuses on the little stage, demanding their attention.

“And now, gentleman and _ladies_ ,” a voice booms, “what you’ve been waiting for. Our very special feature, _Satine!”_

There’s a few cheers, before a familiar instrumental starts up. Not something that Derek really knows personally, but something he’s heard someone in the pack hum before. Probably Stiles, since he tends to tune everyone else out when humming is involved.

A slim figure slinks on stage with a cute little red number of a dress and barefoot.

Derek’s breath catches when Stiles’ wide amber eyes stare at the crowd, the eyeliner he’s using making them look brighter somehow, his pretty wide mouth is carefully painted cherry red that’s sure to leave sticky marks behind wherever it touches and there’s blush accentuating his strong cheekbones. He has his grown his hair out enough so it’s carefully style in a more girlish pixie crop.

He’s pretty sure he hears more than one person gasp, the smell of arousal thickening even more in the air.

And then Stiles opens his mouth.

“ _Is it still me who makes you sweat?”_ he starts singing, a little breathily, “ _Am I who you think about in bed?”_

Derek is about to have a stroke. He is because all that blood rushing south cannot be a good thing. Derek Hale; died at twenty-three with a boner. Laura is probably laughing at him from the afterlife.

“ _When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you’re sliding off your dress?”_ Stiles continues, completely oblivious to Derek’s crisis, in fact Stiles is making it worse, cocking his head with a hooded look as he runs the bare tips of his fingers over his hips and upwards.

“ _Then think of what you did and I hope to God he was worthy it.”_

His words become a challenge.

“ _When the lights are dim,”_ the spotlight dims intensity, “ _and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin_ ,” he sings, bringing his hand to the microphone stand and then slowly sliding it down and up the fucking thing, stroking it slowly and surely. His lips twitch in a smile like he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. At this point, Derek’s pretty sure that he does and is enjoying it.

Stiles’ smirk turns into a lewd teasing thing, “ _I’ve got more wit, a better_ kiss _,”_ his voice gets significantly breathier as he watches the crowd from under his half dropped lids.

Derek feels his fangs drop.

“ _A hotter touch_ ,” he grips the microphone stand tightly, shoulders drawing in, taking him closer to the mic like he’s telling a secret now.

His eyes fly wide open, he widens his stance slightly his hips swaying like he was born to do this.

“ _A better_ fuck.”

And Derek is out. Well, his fangs are out and so are his claws and he just can’t handle this anymore, can’t handle Stiles saying fuck like that, like it’s just the two of them, like it’s something private and sex-heavy, teeth holding his cherry painted bottom lip for a second to long as he holds the f and then releases it in something akin to a gasp.

Guess he knows how Stiles is managing to restore his Jeep now.

He can’t handle Stiles talking like _that_ and it not being just for him. And it’s not even that Derek is some kind of close-minded possessive bastard, though it’s maybe a little bit of that. But mostly it’s the knowledge that he’ll never get Stiles being like that with him, because he apparently has someone he’s crushing on, a boyfriend or whatever the fuck and Derek just-

Derek took another step waiting to find even terrain and finding a bear trap and his only option his chewing through his leg to get out.

He’s not being dramatic, just how painful love has always been to him.

He gets up, vaults over the back of the nice couch he was sitting on and heads for the exit.

There’s a stutter in the song, a pause in “ _Than any boy you’ll ever meet, sweetie you had me- Derek? “_ followed by a quiet _“Oh shit,”_ before he returns to the song.

_“No, no, no you know it’ll always just be me.”_

Derek gets to the front door just in time for, “ _Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster, faster.”_

The door shuts behind him with a loud thud, muffling the sounds from inside the club.

Derek lets himself growl a little at the night around him and decides to go for a walk to see if maybe the cold night air will get the blood off his dick and back into his head so maybe he’ll be able to think clearly and remember why it’s a tremendously bad idea to give into Stiles and just throw up his feeling all over his shoes.

«»

When he turns back to the club Stiles is pacing the entrance, still barefoot, still in his dress but without his makeup. Derek gives himself a moment to feel disappointed before he steals himself.

Stiles likes this DD person after all, however stupid that name sounds. Derek bets whomever he is, he has a stupid face to go with their stupid name and their stupid beard. Derek bets his beard his way more impressive than theirs.

Yes, he is a mature adult that handles things maturely. This has already been established.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles blurts out as soon as he spots him, “You’re probably uncomfortable seeing me like this and I knew I should’ve told you where I worked but I was afraid this would happen but it did anyway. And now you probably think I’m a pervert or whatever even if I’m not and gender stereotypes towards clothing and makeup are really fucking stupid, but I understand if it makes you uncomfortable, I mean who wouldn’t be-“

Stiles is twisting his fists into the fabric of his dress, making it ride up a little and Derek is _confused_.

He’s so very tired of feeling confused around Stiles.

Derek decides to grip the back of Stiles’ neck and squeeze once, since it’s the most effective way he’s found to make him shut up.

“Stiles breathe.”

Stiles takes a deep breathe, looking wide eyed at Derek.

“I thought you found this disgusting,” he mutters quietly, having a hand down at himself.

Derek frowns, “Why would you think that?”

“You vaulted over that couch really aggressively.”

Derek lets go of Stiles, watches intently as Stiles sways a little towards him, chasing the contact.

He’s pretty sure this isn’t going to be a fair thing to say. Not with Stiles crushing on someone else. In fact he thinks that this might be one of the dumbest things he’ll ever do.

“It was the opposite,” he says seriously, balling up his fists and bracing himself for the gentle letdown. It’ll be better like this. Stiles will reject him, it’ll be awkward for a while and then he’ll make it un-awkward.

“The opposite of- _oh_!”

Derek takes a deep breath it, waits for it.

Stiles grins and places both hands on his chest leaning forward carefully and pressing their lips together.

Derek breath rushes out of him, fists unclenching and catching Stiles by the waist, pulling him closer.

It’s a chaste kiss, their first. Quickly followed by a not so chaste one, more experimental, measuring each other’s boundaries and testing them, pushing against them until Derek has Stiles’ legs wrapped around his waist, Stiles’ fingers in his hair and Stiles pressed against a wall. Stiles all around him, his taste in his mouth, his scent in his nose and he has to stop _has to_ so he can get a good hit of it.

He doesn’t even care how obvious he’s being with scenting Stiles, snuffling against his neck, mostly because Stiles laughs bright and happy, short nails scraping against Derek’s scalp in a way that makes him want to purr.

He distantly hears the door shut and close next to them followed by a gasp and then Erica hooting which is joined by the sounds of the pack either cheering, sighing finally! or gagging (the last one mostly from Scott).

“But,” Isaac says confusedly, “didn’t he like someone called DD?”

Derek immediately pulls back from the hickey he had been working on the underside of Stiles’ jaw, a harsh kick in the balls to reality.

“Isaac, babe,” Allison starts kindly, “that’s just what he calls Derek’s dick.”

Stiles turns beet red and hides his face in Derek’s neck; Isaac gags and starts complaining loudly about his poor virgin ears.

(“I can hear the porn you watch from my room, Isaac. Don’t get me started on how non-virgin your ears are.”)

“You have a name for my dick?”

“If it’s any comfort I have a name for my dick too.”

“Do I wanna know?”

Stiles shrugs, says “S. S. Boner.”

Derek laughs so hard his entire body curls in and thank gods they’re leaning against a wall otherwise they’d be on the floor already.

«»

Stiles is lazing around on Derek’s apartment again, stretched out on the couch like he owns the goddamn place.

Derek huffs at him and ducks his head, snuffling against Stiles’ armpit, wrinkling his nose and pushing him away.

“Stop squirming,” Stiles mumbles sleepily.

“You stop squirming,” Derek says back, manipulating Stiles’ body so he’s tucked half on top of Derek half against the back of the couch, where he can safely shove his nose in Stiles’ hair and just breath in the mix of the chemicals in his shampoo and _Stiles_.

“Yeah, you’re gonna make me, Big Guy?”

“I already did.”

Stiles sighs tiredly, “Okay.”

“You’re ridiculous after sex,” Derek tells him.

Stiles rubs his cheek against his chest and sighs again, “Your face is ridiculous.”

Derek starts rumbling somewhere deep in his chest, half against his will, because he’s trying to be serious here.

Stiles is back in college with the rest of them, driving down to see Derek every other weekend he can. He had to quit his job for college, but apparently the nicknames stayed. (And so did the singing and the pretty dresses. Stiles has a lot of pretty dresses, he even drags Derek along to some of the trips he does to buy them. Derek just sits in a chair half hard all the time and carries everyone’s shopping bags for them.)

Derek is still Big Guy (HoneyDer, DerBear, DD, Babe) and sometimes Handsome, although Stiles has taken to using Handsome when he’s trying to fuck with Jackson; Darling and Hon are used liberally in everyone as is Doll and Sweetheart.

It’s nice what they have, the _dating_ , the Stiles having a key to his apartment and spending all the time he’s not at college here.

Derek pulls Stiles up, who grumbles loudly but lets himself be manhandled. Derek snuffles behind his hear, rubs their cheeks together and makes sure Stiles is drenched in his scent like he’s supposed to be.

 “What’re you doin’ Big Guy?” Stiles mumbles.

“Nothing.”

Stiles curls his hand Derek’s shirt, “If you wanted cuddles you could’ve said so.”

“I’m good, go to sleep.”

So, yeah it’s nice and these days Stiles tends to only put on a show for him, which makes Derek sound like the possessive bastard he might or might not be, but that’s not the point.

The point is that his couch now smells like them together. Stiles and Derek. Which is great for when he’s feeling homesick in his own home and can just lay on a couch for a quick nap and a hit of Stiles’ scent.

 Still doesn’t do much to stop him from waking up from a boner though, in fact he’d say these days post-naps boners are more frequent but that’s okay too cause now stiles is his boyfriend and Skype is a wonderful marvelous thing that they make use of.

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize for all of that.


End file.
